


the world, entire

by incandescent (lmeden)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, basically crack, possibly tbc, with a heart of gold
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 15:30:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9391070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmeden/pseuds/incandescent
Summary: Hermione and Percy save the world.Kind of.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmoretteHD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmoretteHD/gifts).



> For the lovely amorette, who prompted me with "Hermione and Percy have a lot more in common than they thought." I do feel slightly guilty that there is no porn in this, nor is there like to be, but I really like the story all the same. 
> 
> I don't really write much fanfiction anymore, but I do have plans for a bit more of this story. If I continue it, each chapter will be able to stand alone. 
> 
> (Also, I've made some things up when I forgot them and ignored others. Just roll with it.)

On March 23rd at 4:28 in the afternoon, Hermione’s desk jumped up and shook itself clean of detritus. Papers threw themselves into the air and her tea, which had luckily gone cold hen she’d been distracted by a series of fascinating briefs regarding the hinkypunk migration in southern London, fell into her lap. She would not have known the time except that her clock yelped as it fell from the shelf above her head; she caught it with a strangled gasp, stared at the time, and set it down. 

The desk had settled down, and though Hermione wasn’t one to discount magic, her desk had never been prone to dancing jigs before, and she didn’t think it had just taken the idea up today. Grimacing at the dark stain spreading across her trousers, she righted her teacup, spelled away the mess, and went to the office door. 

The noise was a crashing wave that broke over her as she opened it. 

“What was that?”

“Merlin, did you feel the way the floor—” 

“My desk just—!”

It seemed as if half her department was in the hall discussing the tremor. A few memos fluttered by overhead, seemed uncharacteristically confusion. Hermione ducked under one and saw Audrey from across the hall step out of her own office, robes askew and slightly tea-stained as well. Hermione kept her wand close and drew up the schematics for a comprehensive set of diagnostic spells in her mind. 

“Granger.”

Hermione whipped turned to stare at the redhead striding down the hall, weaving between clutches of gossiping office workers as if he’d been doing it his whole life. He seemed unflustered by the chaos but she knew he’d never been one to wear his feelings on his sleeve. She gave him a small smile. 

“Percy. What was that? An attack?”

He frowned and his shoulders shifted. Not quite a shrug, but not uncaring either. “No word yet, and I haven’t registered any magical residue.”

Hermione glanced down to see his wand was out and held low, little blue sparks falling toward the floor as he cast diagnostic spells. Her own wand was warm against her fingertips, but she’d thought to wait and gauge the situation before adding more spell traces to the air. 

Percy had aged since she’d last spoken to him; though she’d seen him frequently enough in the Ministry halls, they worked in different departments, and the distance had been enough that she hadn’t noticed the way lines had etched themselves around his eyes and grey had begun to crowd his head, turning the fiendfyre of the Weasley hair to ash. 

She stepped out of her office and closed the door behind her. She’d left her outer robes behind, but she had her wand after all, and what more did an enterprising young witch need?

“Well then,” she said, getting her thoughts into order. “You’ve run the standard diagnosis?”

A nod as she headed down the hall toward the lift. She kept her gaze fixed and avoided eye contact – she didn’t want to stop and speak with anyone. He followed. 

“And the Helmsky Protocol?”

Another nod. She stopped before the lift doors and forced them open with a flick of her wand. Reaching back, he took her hand and held her steady as she leaned in. She peered down, wand lighting the darkness. 

Then up. 

“Processed fine particulates and chemical residue?”

The elevator shaft was dark and silent. Lifts down. Unlikely to be a coincidence, more probably because of what she’d begun to call ‘The Incident’, if only in her own head. They’d have to take the stairs. Percy pulled her back into the hall and Hermione nodded in thanks. 

“Not yet,” he admitted. “Doesn’t make much sense to run all the tests here, when I’ve managed to pinpoint the epicenter as originating three floors up.”

_The Atrium._

They both glanced toward the ceiling, then headed toward the stairwell as one. Hermione kept her expression smooth and focused, but unease crawled up her arms and the back of her neck, settling in as a chill. She felt her scars itch slightly, but didn’t let her nervousness show. She didn’t want to alarm anyone. Not yet. 

Keeping an eye on anyone who passed her by, Hermione took the steps two at a time, bounding upward. Percy was quiet behind her. 

“What brought you down to Magical Creatures?” she asked, voice only slightly breathy from the exertion. She didn’t run every other day for fun, and she was glad to see that the discipline was coming in handy. 

Percy’s breathing was hard behind her as he said, “Just passing through. I had to wrap up some things with your Head.”

The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures often had visits from Percy and his fellows at the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Hermione’s Department had the second highest rate of Statute of Secrecy infractions of any Ministry department, second only to the Aurors, who did so much Obliviation that Hermione sometimes wondered how anyone in Muggle Britain remembered anything. Their Head worked with the IMC frequently to keep public relations smooth.

“Good timing, then. I don’t know anyone else who can run the Helmsky Protocol off the top of their head. Studied with the Unspeakables?”

She hardly thought about the question, really. It was the tension of the silence between them that drove her mad. When it was silent, all she could think about was hat might have happened in the Atrium, and though she tried to keep her thoughts reasonable, they’d quickly drifted toward blood and horror. She knew that Percy certainly wasn’t going to carry the conversation. He never did seem to talk much – not in meetings, or in the hall, or at family gatherings. He was always entirely quiet, drifting near the edges. 

She had to keep talking.

“No.” He spoke quietly enough that Hermione snapped. 

She turned on her heels, stopping dead in the middle of the stairs. He rocked to a halt and blinked up at her, grey-blue eyes wide. 

“Who did you study with, then? I know they don’t teach advanced magical diagnostic spells to IMC talkers.”

His lips thinned, not quite a glare. No one at the IMC liked being called a ‘talker’, as if they did nothing else (though in Hermione’s experience, that was often the case). 

“I studied the Protocol on my own. It filled an afternoon. Now, I believe there is a crisis we need to address.”

Hermione sighed and stepped aside so that they continued side-by-side. “I’m sure the Aurors have it well in hand. If there’s a problem, we’re both just… office workers.” She forced away the image of Harry’s green eyes staring, her parents smiling at her impersonally.

Percy looked over at her, the hint of a smile touching his lips. “Hermione Granger, Order of Merlin First Class, hero of the Battle of Hogwarts. You’ve destroyed Horcruxes and without you the Dark Lord would still be here, and you’re doubting yourself.”

It was Hermione’s time to blink in surprise. “Well, no, I’m not—”

“We’re here.” Percy stopped at the Atrium door, neatly labeled. It looked like any other door leading off the stairway, which continued up and down forever. Hermione had never tried to walk all the way in either direction. It was in the manual everyone received on the first day: _Take the stairs only when necessary. They are not meant for exercise of curiosity-seekers. Don’t Even Try._ She didn’t like peering over the railing, most days; it was dizzying to see oneself through the Penrose distortion.

Hermione focused on the door and kept her wand ready. “Well then,” she said, and pushed open the door. 

She gasped. Or maybe that was Percy. Hermione stepped into the doorway and clung to the edge, staring. 

There had obviously been some kind of magical mishap, but she wasn’t sure what. The entire Atrium was filled with enormous bubbles of what appeared to by violently pink bubblegum. They drifted through the air, narrowly missing the outstretched wand of the wizard in the fountain’s statue. Each was larger than a person, and many seemed to have witches and wizards stuck in them. 

“By Merlin,” Percy breathed from beside her. 

Hermione felt just the same, but weary aggravation soon swept through her. “If I find out that this was George’s—” She cut herself off and stepped back as a bubble drifted by, just missing her. The witch inside was seated cross-legged and seemed to be meditating. 

“I’ll be the one explaining it away,” Percy finished for her. 

“Indeed.” 

They stood, surveying the situation. Hermione couldn’t tell if the Aurors had arrived yet – they could just as well be caught in the bubbles with everyone else. She gritted her teeth and brandished her wand. 

“Alright, then. I’ll pop, and you catch.”

It was hardly a question, but he nodded in answer anyway, squaring his shoulders. 

Hermione stepped out of the doorway, and Percy followed.


End file.
